


In My Thoughts And Prayers

by adams_song



Series: Francisco Garupe [1]
Category: Adam Driver - Fandom, Silence (2016)
Genre: 20th Century, Adam Driver Smut, Aftercare, Alternate Universe, Angst and Feels, Church Sex, Confessions, F/M, Forbidden Love, Garupe is thicc, Hand Jobs, Inappropriate Erections, Lots of Cum, Priest Kink, Religious Conflict, Religious Guilt, Sackler calling you kid - Garupe calling you child, Sexual Tension, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Virginity, dick lessons, dick party, he is hot, sweat kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25239721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adams_song/pseuds/adams_song
Summary: The faintest glow of twilight hit Garupe’s face; his eyes were impossibly dark, with just a drop of honey swirled in the background. You had never seen eyes so deep and you couldn’t look away. You let your mind drift, wondering if it wasn’t a little too hot for him to be wearing such heavy robes… Wasn’t he allowed a lighter habit in the summer? That was surely the reason why he was starting to sweat, his forehead glistening in the soft dim light. Was he also sweating under all those thick layers?
Relationships: Adam Driver/You, Francisco Garupe/Original Female Character(s), Francisco Garupe/You
Series: Francisco Garupe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079021
Comments: 16
Kudos: 51





	In My Thoughts And Prayers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nocturnalchild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nocturnalchild/gifts).



> This is my first story/smut ever, hope you like it, I'll appreciate any comments or feedback <3 
> 
> For context, it takes place some time in the early 1900s. 
> 
> ***
> 
> Special thanks to Nocturnalchild, for her endless patience and support. AND this beautiful headboard she made just because she wanted to <3

It was the end of a beautiful summer afternoon and the sun was low in the sky, offering its last warm rays for the day. The perfect time to be somewhere nice, doing something pleasant like strolling the gardens, sitting by the lake, or even relaxing in the porch drinking lemonade with some friends… definitely time to be spent outdoors in good company.

Instead, you found yourself completely alone inside an imposing sacred building, kneeling between those familiar wooden benches, hands in prayer. The smell of incense filled a heavy, dizzying atmosphere, golden dust specks dancing through the intense colours cast by the beautiful stained glass windows. Under other circumstances you might have found it almost magical, but today you carried the weight of an incredible burden with you. The heaviest you had felt in a very long time. Your hands squeezed harder together, knuckles turning white. Your eyes were shut tight and you felt the burning of tears behind them, threatening to spill as you cursed you luck again.

“Sorry, s-sorry” You muttered under your breath, hanging your head low. The Church was no place to be cursing anything, especially when you were there seeking some kind of… divine guidance. To be honest, you weren’t exactly a frequent visitor —You definitely didn’t come every Sunday like your parents did— but you were here for every marked Holiday, baptism, wedding… Oh Christ. Wedding. You were bound for the next one really soon, way too soon, in your opinion, you were not ready, you didn’t even—

“Hello” Your spiralling was interrupted right away by this low gentle voice coming from just a few steps behind.

You jumped back on your feet, startled, and turned around to see this tall figure dressed in black, standing by the end of one of the long benches. You realised it was the Priest and you were the one creeping into his territory and not the other way around.

“Forgive me, I, the door was open, I didn’t think—”

“This is the house of God and the door is always open for those in need” He quickly stated. You still hesitated and it must have shown in your face. He continued: “There’s nothing to be sorry about. You are welcome here, my child” You relaxed a little.

“Thank you Father…” “Fatherrr…” Your voice wavered.

Oh no... Oh Damn. Double damn for cursing, _again_. How could you not remember his name? You scrambled your brain; You were sure you had seen him a few times before. Yes, you had always seen him in the distance, working quietly around the old Priest. He was his assistant, and his right hand later on. When the former had passed away around a year ago, he had replaced him as the head of this modest Church. You had been silent for a good ten seconds now, staring at the floor in embarrassment, brain working at full speed trying to fish out the name.

He took a step forward. “Garupe. I’m Father Francisco Garupe.” He smiled warmly, seemingly not bothered by your obliviousness.

“Father Garupe” You smacked your forehead internally, forcing a pained smile outside. “Of course Father, I’m sorry I—”

“You’re the eldest of the Johnsons, is that right?” He enquired.

He probably had to remember the faces and names of hundreds of church goers, yet you couldn’t remember the name of one single priest… But he remembered _you._

“Mhm” You nodded, looking up at him properly for the first time. He was considerably closer now, a soft smile still gracing his face, his lips, the deep brown pools of his eyes. Your eyes wandered along his sharp but kind features, the pale freckled skin of his face and the luscious dark waves of his hair. His height and broad frame were somewhat intimidating, and studying him altogether left you a little out of breath.

“Now, may I ask what it is that’s troubling you?”

Reality crashed down on you like an ice water bucket, being reminded of the reason for your visit.

“Uh, no-I-mean… yes? I’m uh, not sure if I… I don’t think you…” Why were you babbling like that now? Hadn’t you embarrassed yourself enough in front of this holy man already?

You composed yourself: “Of course you may ask, Father. I guess I just came here to pray to uhm…” You awkwardly pointed your finger in the direction of the sky, looking up. “I need his help more than ever”.

“You did well, my child. The Lord is benevolent and always listens.”

He paused.

“And know that as his servant, I am also here to assist you, with whatever you need” His voice turned almost into a rumble by the end, making something inside you tug in a way you did not quite comprehend. 

There’s no reason to be this nervous, you said to yourself. This is what he’s here for and you need guidance, you need _answers_ , actual practical advice… You were starting to panic again so you took a couple of deep breaths, hoping for your thundering heartbeat to slow down.

Father Garupe observed you in silence, eyebrows lifted in a sincere expression of worry. He gestured to the nearest bench, inviting you to sit down. You saw nothing but kindness and good intentions in his offering, so you willed yourself to sit, him following calmly after you. You watched as he maneuvered the tight gap as graciously as he could, folding himself in and tucking his long legs diagonally into the narrow space as the old wood creaked under his weight. He really was massive, you thought. The shape of one of thighs under his robe looked almost as thick as both your legs, and, and… And you needed to _stop_ looking at the Priest’s thighs. Seriously, what was wrong with you?

Again, you had to wait for your treacherous heart to calm a little before you could gather your thoughts, remember why you were there and exactly how much of it you could tell the Priest.

* * *

“I am to be wedded soon, Father.” Seemed like a safe starting point.

“That is delightful, congratulations! You must be really happy” He smiled. “Now, would you like to tell me what the matter is?”

“I am to be wedded!”

“You are to be wedded” The Father stated, not quite understanding.

“That _is_ the matter, Father. I’m supposed to make a good wife for my husband, and I don’t… I don’t think I can ever… I don’t even know where to begin” You winced.

“How is that? It should be very easy. You love this man, don’t you?”

You were dazed by his forward question, so you decided that if you were going to be forward, you might as well spill the beans;

“I barely know him, Father. I just know that he is an older man, from a wealthy family, and that he asked my father for my hand in marriage. My parents think I will have a very comfortable life with him, If I can provide for all his needs and keep him… pleased” Those desperate thoughts from before started to spiral in your mind again.

“That’s right my child, that’s what marriage is…” “You must trust your parent’s judgement, and God willing he’ll be just as good a husband for you too”.

Not quite helpful. And easy for him to say, being a Priest he would never marry or have to worry about such things. How could he even begin to help you? You realised this had all probably been a mistake, that it was a lost cause. After a long silence, you quietly spoke:

“Forgive me Father, I should not have mentioned it. Of course you’re not here to teach women about their… wifely duties”

“I should go” You said, now clearly ashamed.

His hand shot toward you, reaching for your arm but curling back just before touching it.

Had he wanted to stop you? Was he holding back reluctantly? And most importantly, had you just caught a glimpse of a tremble in his strong fingers? No, none of that made sense.

He shook his head. “Hold on child, what exactly are you asking? Believe it or not, I know a thing or two about marriage…” His tone was still warm and understanding “I even officiated a couple myself” A beautiful shy grin returned to his face “The duties of spouses are to love, support, cherish and respect each other.” He searched your eyes, hoping to find some sort of relief in them.

But the truth was he was only dancing around the subject, avoiding the one thing that tormented you, and you were growing impatient by the second.

“That much I know, but what about… the special duties… of wives, in particular?” You averted your eyes, gathering up the courage to continue. “It is my understanding I will have to engage with him in certain… _activities_. Activities I know nothing about, activities to give him…”

You couldn’t say it.

“To give him what? Are you referring to…” 

“Children! To give him children” You blurted out.

Silence ensued as a suffocating heat crept up your neck; He seemed flustered too, but your face was actually on fire.

You sat there as the sun went down and the church got darker, slowly leaving you two in the shadows.

You realised how ridiculous the whole situation was; You still didn’t know if this was the right thing to do, if he was the right person to talk to. But he was the only one. And you knew that he was your last hope.

You saw him swallow hard, as if trying to collect himself “You’re referring to conjugal relations”

Spot on, Father. You nodded, not saying a word.

A strange mix of emotions made your belly twist; the dreadful feeling you brought with you still lingered, eased by the subtle liberation of finally saying it out loud, joined by some new and very unsettling kind of nerves. Nerves you were starting to suspect related to Father Garupe, this poor sweet man that was only trying his best to help you. His mere presence, the closeness and the sudden intimacy with him were simply derailing you.

The faintest glow of twilight hit Garupe’s face; his eyes were impossibly dark, with just a drop of honey swirled in the background. You had never seen eyes so deep and you couldn’t look away. You let your mind drift, wondering if it wasn’t a little too hot for him to be wearing such heavy robes… Wasn’t he allowed a lighter habit in the summer? That was surely the reason why he was starting to sweat, his forehead glistening in the soft dim light. Was he also sweating under all those thick layers? You were horrified at yourself because you kind of wanted to find out, images of hot, sweat slicked skin suddenly assaulting your mind.

You were glad your sinful daydream was interrupted by the Father awkwardly clearing his throat, bringing you back to the (no less embarrassing) matter at hand. He had wanted to say something, but he just stared at you, jaw working and a childlike pout on his lips. Those plush, ripe looking lips that had you distractedly wetting your own and…

“Kissing! I know it starts with kissing, right Father?” Your eyes kept betraying you and going back to his mouth. He seemed to return the courtesy, his gaze flashing to your lips for a just a second.

“You don’t make a child by kissing…” he said in a low husky voice.

You huffed “I might be naive, Father, but I’m no fool! I think I know what must be put where”

Your treacherous eyes immediately lowered to the space between his legs, making them jolt violently and bump his thigh against yours. Next thing you know he’s loudly clearing his throat again, making a thundering noise and trying not to choke. He crossed his arms on his lap, gripping the sides of his legs tight as if to keep them still. You really needed to watch your mouth too, a task that was proving nearly impossible in his presence.

“S-sorry about that, uh, so... Yes… you… you seem to be quite knowledgable, there isn’t much more to it, as I understand, you seem to know exactly… w-what, what, uh, what…”

“Father” You cut him off. “I don’t. I don’t understand it. How is that supposed to work? it doesn’t seem possible to me“

He braced himself, closing his eyes to answer… “Every single soul in the world after Adam and Eve originated from this sacred act of union, Including you, and including me” “I can’t say I fully understand it either but it definitely _is_ possible”

There we go. As you feared, he was just as clueless as you were. But he was a man. A man of Church yes, but still a man. And you were a grown adult woman. You had all the pieces of the puzzle right there and just needed to piece them together, if he let you.

* * *

Talking to Father Garupe felt much easier now, after such a short time. You couldn’t explain why, maybe because you saw how vulnerable he also was, how he was just human after all. He made you feel safe, unjudged… understood. Confiding in him just felt right, and so you opened yourself up, voicing your deepest fears…

“I’m so desperate, Father. I know that if I fail at this my husband will surely reject me, and my life will be ruined forever.” You felt hot tears welling up in your eyes. “I can’t go on like this, I can’t!”

“Fear not, child, please! I’m certain you’ll succeed, I’ll pray for you and I… I wish there was more I could do! But how, how can a man like me help with something like this?

“I understand, Father, I do.” You said, blinking back the tears. You understood. But you also _needed_ get to the bottom of it, and you had decided to trust him fully.

“There might still be something you could do for me”

“Anything!” He seemed almost as desperate as you were, and so ready to comfort you.

“I’m going to confess… Everything.And it has to stay between us right?”

“Between God, you and I” He replied with a slow nod.

“Good, because I just need to get this off my chest; I know my body well and…”

He gulped, waiting for you to continue.

“I am small and…Too tight and… it won’t fit, I just know it won—“

“You’re absolved!” He howled, taking a sharp breath. “I absolve you, of everything.”

That was the best he could come up with, hoping it would put an end to your confession. Even though that wasn’t really a confession. Even though there was no sin in there, but at the same time…. It felt sinful just to hear it. The words “ _too tight_ ” echoed in his head, making him feel dizzy. He struggled with his breathing as the first bead of sweat slid from his face, trailing down his neck and disappearing into his already damp collar.

“I mean it,” you weren’t done making your point, because you really could not imagine fitting literally anything in there. “It is really, really _tight_ , Father. You have no idea how—”

“You are absolved… Please.” He interrupted you again, sighing that last word.

His gaze had been trained on a featureless space vaguely above the altar. Feeling like he might pass out, he clung to the benches at his sides for support as he turned to you with wide pleading eyes. And that was when you saw the first piece of the puzzle, bulging in between his thighs. He looked down and…

“For the love of Christ!“ “I am SO, so sorry, this… has nothing to do with you, it just… It… It happens to me sometimes, please forgive me?”

“That happens to you?”

“Well, yes…”

“Sometimes?”

“Sometimes… in the morning…”

He was blushing so hard and didn’t know where to look. You stared at the mysterious shape, and something clicked for you then.

“How does it feel?”

“…Painful… Just painful, unless… But I can’t…”

“Unless?”

He looked down again with a genuinely tortured expression, chest heaving as if he had an internal fight with the devil himself. In a swift motion, he grabbed the stiff bulge and squeezed it once, revealing the full size and hardness of it. He choked a groan and quickly retreated his hand, bending forward and burying his face in his palms. You were fascinated by the sight; He on the other hand seemed on the edge of some kind of breakdown.

“Forgive me Lord, please” he muttered before starting a string of lousy prayers, dissociating from everything else around him. “…And let her forgive me too…”

“Oh, Father…” You felt so sorry for him then, the way he beat himself up for giving into his instincts for just a moment… What that so terrible about that? There was no reason for all that sorrow, he was clearly just struggling against his own nature. And he had not offended you the way he thought he had. You wanted, needed, to let him know; Let him know that he was not alone. That maybe, something inside you had just awakened too. And admit that maybe, just maybe, you were feeling your own version of those same urges, aching and throbbing hot inside your core.

“…into temptation…”, He kept sobbing into his sleeves, and you could only make up half the words, “…s’wrong…”

“What’s so wrong?” You leaned into him, searching his face and resting your hand on his trembling shoulder.

He instantly snapped out to look at you through hazy eyes; then at your hand on his shoulder, rubbing up and down, soothing him softly. His voice strained as he moaned:

“T-touching… I can’t… touch myself, it’s a sin.” His face fell again and remained low in shame, eyes heavy.

“Okay… Can I?”

“Wh-what?”

“If you can’t touch it, may I?”

He looked back at you in shock, utterly confused. He must have misheard you, his deviant mind was surely playing tricks on him. Just the thought of it scared him, it went against all christian morals. It made him nervous. Uncomfortable. And somehow, more excited than he’d ever been. He was a disgusting pervert, a depraved excuse for a Priest. Practically a criminal! He wished you had never seen it, he had probably ruined everything and scared you away for ever, he thought. Why, why was he like that? And WHY in God’s name would you be asking to touch him?

His train of thought was more or less coherent but he could not translate any of it into actual words, an embarrassing, nonsensical stutter leaving his lips instead.

“I need to know Father… will you help me?”

Not only did he want to help you, he had promised to, it was his duty. But in that moment, the whole church was spinning around him and he couldn’t make sense of anything. He felt hopeless as he softly closed his eyes in surrender, slumped down on the bench and wiped his drenched face with a huge shaky hand. He swept it up his forehead, threading his fingers into his damp hair and letting it rest there. His cheeks felt burning hot and his heart was pounding mercilessly against his chest. He concentrated on trying to breathe, in and out, even and slow. His lungs seemed to have forgotten that. His body was doing the strangest things. And the strangest of them all, the one that had started this hell, wasn’t going anywhere either.

“It hurts”

He whined like a wounded puppy and you knew exactly what to do.

* * *

You did a quick check around you to make sure you were still alone; the temple was dark and quiet, not a single soul in sight and none to be expected at this late hour.

You brought your hand to his knee first, making his breath hitch. His gaze followed your exploring fingers as they travelled slowly up his thigh, your eyes fixed on his growing erection. He did not stop you. He remained awfully still, terrified and spurred by a blinding need unlike anything he had ever felt. He knew it was wrong, letting you spoil your virtue like that, dismissing his lifelong chastity, his vows and beliefs, the very principles he had chosen to live by. But you made it feel so right, almost justified, an exploration of his body with a practical, christian purpose. Was it right to allow it? The conflict was tearing him apart but he couldn’t think straight, not with the way your hand felt against him, so close now. Your fingertips inched forward, grazing the edge of sin… and he felt it as inevitable as anything. He couldn’t have stopped you; he wasn’t sure he wanted to, but it didn’t matter. He let it unravel like a dream beyond his control.

And finally, finally, you were touching him. Softly, carefully, palming his heated sex and making him shudder all over. He released a long, hot breath he had been holding, looking down in awe. There was no denying the effect you had on him: he was hard as a rock under your hand and couldn’t help the way his hips shifted a little, seeking more of your touch. A featherlight stroke pulled a low moan from his lips and sent his head slamming back against the wood. It felt like Heaven. He had never been touched like that before, not by anyone, certainly no one like you. He couldn’t remember meeting anyone like you in his entire life; you shook him to his very core and he found himself completely helpless, lost in the feeling of your fingers tracing the shape of his cock against the fabric, intensifying the sensation to a point he wasn’t sure he could take for much longer.

“Oh Jesus—” 

“I think we’ll figure this out Father, just… relax… Do you think you can?”

The Father nodded heartily, as if to convince himself that he could.

”This is on the way…” You said hesitantly, tugging at the scratchy fabric of his tunic.

“Mppfhh—”

“Please, I - I want to see”

You needed to see it, touch it and feel it against your skin. So badly in fact, that it was getting difficult to think of it as a simple exchange… a learning experience like you said, nothing more than a secret lesson between you and Garupe (and God, apparently). You would make your peace with that later.

But for now, the fire inside you was telling you something else. The wet warmth you felt pooling between your legs was something obvious, yet another piece of the wicked puzzle: You were aroused like never before, the same way you should be on the first night with your husband, and it made sense… It would make things much easier, hopefully help them _fit._ You told yourself you would think of this moment on that forsaken day, try to remember the feeling.

And you promised yourself something else: you _would not_ think of Father Garupe. It wouldn’t be right. He was only yours now, this one time, and he looked… so good, so beautiful… all flushed and panting, speechless, looking at you with a fearful, desperate wanting.

You locked eyes with him, both unsure what to do next. But the sweat kept flowing, he was slowly melting in front of you and you couldn’t stand it any longer. You carefully brushed a strand of sticky hair from his forehead and laid your hands on his wide, almost certainly strong shoulders, eyes telling him to trust you as you began pulling at the heavy robe on top. He sat up and helped you get rid of it, leaving him in a much thinner, silkier gown. You were not wrong to think you had sensed muscles underneath, he was incredibly built for well, any man, especially a priest. Your eyes wandered in a moment of quiet admiration, meeting his again as the discarded garment slid to the floor.

“Better now, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yes, better” He still felt like he could drown, but the chill of the air on his slicked boiling skin was a welcome one. Everything was so new and overwhelming, he simply couldn’t believe it was happening. That it was happening so fast, that it was happening here, and with you. He had seen you before, noticed you even, but really, he had only just met you. He risked a look at his aching cock, much more apparent now, stretching and tenting the fabric around it.

With a growing urgency, you continued to undress him, lifting the gown past his navel and uncovering the smooth skin there. You were amazed at the heat radiating from his body, so enticing, making you lose your mind a little more. You had to resist the urge to press a kiss to each of the little freckles sprinkled on his belly, to drag your tongue across those unfairly perfect abs, sucking their juicy flesh into your mouth… Your fingers roamed along with your imagination, following the soft trail of dark hair that dipped down, to finally strip him out of his last undergarments.

When his beautiful cock sprung free, the sight of it made your stomach flip, wiped your mind blank. It was big and thick just like the rest of him, deliciously pink against his milky stomach and it felt oh so velvety… hot and heavy in your hand when you took him to resume your gentle stroking. He watched in disbelief for as long as he could before his eyes rolled back into his head, moaning in pleasure. That encouraged you to go a little faster and squeeze a little harder. The moaning intensified, his breath stuttered and all of a sudden his muscles tensed, whole body going stiff. He bit back a groan and quickly reached to still your hand around his swollen, twitching cock.

You immediately stopped moving, heart racing, worried that you had hurt him. You softly asked if he was okay.

”It’s…” He struggled with his ragged breath “…a lot”

“I can stop, I - I don’t want to hurt you”

His poor priest heart skipped a beat — He wasn’t ready to lose your touch, not just yet. The idea of having to watch you leave, leave him... he hated it. He shook his head in panic, trying and failing to find appropriate words in his troubled state, throat dry and mouth parting to say nothing at all.

He tried his best to calm down, steadying his breathing and waiting for that threatening tension that had scared him to ease up. His warm hand still engulfed yours, wrapped tightly around the base of his cock. When he didn’t feel like exploding anymore, he dared to gently guide both hands in a slow upward stroke, delicately squeezing at the end and hissing as a pearly drop leaked out of his tip.

Your hands moved together for a while until he let go, and you continued that languid pace, marvelling at the unholy sounds you were pulling from him. Sounds that made the spark inside you spread like wildfire, threatening to burn everything down. You couldn’t help but moan a little too, seeing his half naked torso jerk and shudder with every stroke, coming at a torturous speed that built up in time with his awkward, hardly contained thrusts. Between choked gasps, needy whimpers and breathy moans, your gaze found his wild, pleading eyes.

“You’re doing so well Father…“ you whispered.

“God, Child, I—“

He felt his self control slip as your hungry eyes bore into his, pouring dangerous images of your body right into him and making impure thoughts almost impossible to fight. He wanted to feel more of your skin, all of it, naked under his. To hold you so tight and so close, to be able to smell you, taste you. God, how he wanted to taste you. Your sweet mouth and your pink lips… run his tongue down your neck and drown in your breasts… He would give everything up just to worship you like he should, every last inch of you.

He was too far gone, his heart was soaring around an impossible fantasy, and he couldn’t shake that bittersweet feeling of longing… There was nothing he desired more than to share his forbidden pleasure with you, find bliss together and have you stay, get to hold you through the night. Such heady thoughts, for a man of God. He realized he would never do any of those things, and he was a fool to think you would even want that, not like this, not with him. He also knew that he would never stop needing it.

Those thoughts kept tormenting him through his agony, just as maddening as the rest, the kind of thoughts he had been trained to suppress immediately, and he had always been able to… Until now. Until you.

Unaware of his inner struggle, you revelled in the urgent way he pushed into your hand, moaning desperately, and how his cock was still swelling in waves, getting harder with every pump. _How is it even possible?_ It was obscene, you couldn’t believe you were so into it. You wanted to show him just how well he was doing… so you took his clammy hand and brought it to your thigh, guiding it up and under your dress, making him whimper. When his quivering fingers met the drenched heat between your legs, he could have come right then and there. You were wrecking him in every possible way, and he… didn’t mind. He just wished for another minute of this, before his inevitable shameful release. He knew what was coming, and felt a pang of guilt. An aftertaste of sadness - It would all be over soon. But he couldn’t focus on anything, when his vision clouded like that, too wound up, too on edge, high on you and wanting it all. He greedily shoved your underwear aside and started brushing up and down your slippery lips, feral thing, miraculously rubbing your clit in the motion. You lost your religion then, your whole body electrified, your hips bucked, you didn’t expect it to feel so, so good, and you didn’t expect to be making such loud, filthy sounds. It took him by surprise too.

“OH LORD, LORD FORGIV— FORGIV— MMMhhh ahhh FUCK!” He cursed. The Priest cursed, out loud, in Church. Because of you. He tried to mutter prayers as he caressed you, constantly broken by his helpless sobs of pleasure. He was going to. He was going to cum on your pretty hands, feeling your hot pussy, and it was more than he could take. Wondering if he could even survive such thing, he begged.

“Please. Please. Child. PLEASE.” Buzzing with adrenaline, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, forehead pressing at your cheek. You relished his frenzied inhales and exhales against your hair, the brush of his soft stubble, his plush lips grazing your delicate skin with an ardent devotion. Emboldened by his actions, you made your own risky move; reaching for his hand again, you chose the fattest finger and pushed it up, guiding it all the way inside you and making him growl like an animal against your neck - it slipped right in, stretching and filling you in the most satisfying way.

“My God, father, feels ssoo… soooh good… It will fit, it will fit!” “Thanks... thanks... thanks…” You pushed him in even deeper.

He gasped for air as his body and middle finger curled into you, wrapping his free arm tight around you. He bit his lip and scrunched his eyes as a thick groan ripped through his chest, and he fell apart. Your hand splayed between his shoulder blades as he began to convulse, and you embraced each other as he came, the most intense pleasure he had ever felt rippling through him, ruining him. He came hard, sloppily mouthing and drooling at your throat, your jaw, sucking and panting behind your ear. His hips rolled up in time with his broken moans, and you felt every pulse of his cock in your hand as it spilled an indecent amount of cum on his tight stomach, his thighs and all over the place. He disgraced his holy robes, your hand, the bench, the sacred marble tiles on the floor.

The comedown was silent, lingering. His face still so close to your skin, hanging on to your scent like a lifeline. When he finally relaxed his grip around you and leaned back enough to make eye contact again, he had the biggest, glassiest puppy eyes. You wanted to kiss him. You shook that thought after a couple seconds of indulgence staring at his raw red lips, like candy on a stick. 

“So… Did _that_ ever happen to you?” You deviated, biting at your lip and looking down.

“Uhm, nohht… not on purpose.” His throat still dry and thick.

_What was he embarrassed for?_ You thought. You wanted to know, there was so much more to learn and you were suddenly so eager.

“So, yes”

“…Yes.” He answered, defeated, making you smirk.

He pulled his finger out of you slowly, reluctantly, letting it drag against your silky walls one last time. He’d never forget the feel of it; he wanted your hot slick coating his finger forever, but even more than that, he wanted to suck it clean. He resisted the impulse and looked at the mess he’d made.

“Good God…” 

You grabbed his cotton underpants and cleaned him up the best you could. The intimacy of the act struck him, you owed him nothing.

“You don’t have to do that Child, I’ll wash these, I —” His cock twitched softly.

“It’s nothing Father, see, all cleaned up. You could use a bath though, with all that sweat…” You said with an amused grin.

“Of course—” He would, take a bath. He would go to bed. And he would wake up the next morning and try to go on with his life, somehow. If he was lucky, a new day would make him regain some the judgement he’d lost under the cover of darkness.

You eyed him as he pulled the gown back down, covering his shame, hiding the sin away. You were sad to lose sight of his skin, but overall relieved to have untangled the doubts that were eating away at you. He had no idea how much he had helped you, you wished you could repay him. For a passing moment, you considered different ways, all inappropriate, blasphemous or ilegal.

“I’m not so hopeless anymore” you announced.

“God bless you… My child.”

He used that deep rumble of his that made your belly flutter, followed by a knowing silence.

“You’ll be in my thoughts and prayers. Every day.” And he meant it. Every single day.

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS FOR READING!
> 
> I'm thinking of writing a second part, do you want part two? He deserves that pussy doesn't he? :)


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